The Viking's Skull

by John R. Carling

Was it the voice of the breeze sighing through the half-opened casement, or was it the skull whispering and chuckling with ghostly glee? She had but to step forward two paces to be within the corridor, and by looking up the staircase would see the skull at its head.

But this was more than she durst do. To her dismay Leo had walked out of the room, and refused to return. She could not shut the door upon the dog: in her present state of mind his presence was an absolute necessity, and yet, to venture out into the passage to bring him back, and by so doing come within sight of the skull, was a feat beyond her courage.

The corridor-lamp had not been lighted. The glory of the full moon shone on the staircase window at such an angle that the outline of the casement was projected upon the floor of the passage directly within view of the door at which she was standing. She could not avoid seeing the oblong patch of spectral white. But that shadow in the centre like a human head, black and still as if nailed to the flooring! It was the silhouette of the skull!

Trembling, she averted her eyes from the shadow, and fortunately at that moment Leo, having decided that the room was more comfortable than the corridor, reentered the apartment, and Beatrice instantly closed the door and turned the key, feeling more at ease now that an inch of oak interposed between herself and the object at the stair head.

But now came another terror!

Leo had taken his place on the hearth-rug where he remained quiet for a few minutes. Then, suddenly, he began to grow restive. Giving a low growl he started to his feet, and after looking about on all sides began to walk round the room, sniffing suspiciously at the floor, as if he expected danger from the cellar below rather than from the staircase above.

His investigations concluded, the poor brute sat down on his haunches, and lifting up his head gave utterance to one long and plaintive howl. And if ever dog uttered prophecy Leo uttered it at that moment, and the tenor of his prediction was that some dire peril was at hand.

Beatrice, who had followed the animal from one part of the room to another, repeating "Leo, Leo, what's the matter?" as if he were capable of speech, knelt by his side and found him quivering in every limb, his hair bristling as if with fear.

Hark!